


Take Your Shots

by StarryJot



Category: Brawl Stars (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, i'll add more tags as they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29833662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryJot/pseuds/StarryJot
Summary: A collection of observations surrounding the mysteries of Starr Park.  There's something going on beyond what we know. Are all the workers there by choice? The dead walk. Inanimate objects feel. The silentI'm sorry. What I meant to say was. This story is about Starr Park being perfectly normal and very fun. Don't forget to invest! :)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	1. Placed

_**ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.**_

The robot glared at the adversaries surrounding him. He was outnumbered, and his systems were trying to force a shut-down because of his lost power. The sun scorched the lands, and heated his metallic body.

"Give it up, Ricochet." Shelly said sternly. "Just come with us without a fight." She was still on guard, shotgun still aimed at him. 

"It's over." Colt said. He was more cocky. His stance was lax.

_**ERROR. ERROR. ERROR.**_

Ricochet ignored the rampant voice, and took a quick shot at Shelly. She fired back in response, but instinctively guarded her face.

Colt aimed after his initial shock, but Ricochet had slipped away.

x+x+x+x+x+x+x+x

He didn't know if he had fled toward town, or away. Ricochet hadn't planned that far ahead. ...Or at all, admittedly.

The only thing he really knew right now was that he wanted to be on his own. He had to escape.

The Bot glanced behind him. He had left the duo long behind him. It was suspicious. They were formidable together, and they were ordered to bring him back to Starr Park's main building. They wouldn't just give up like that...

Ricochet felt his steps become more heavy and sluggish. Oh. Was that it? They had gotten two clear shots on him, on the side of his chest. They must have figured that he wouldn't be standing for long.

He felt his mind glitch for a few seconds. Lost. Out of place. The robot came to a stop. Now anger was flooding his circuits. Soon, he'd be nothing but a scrap pile of burning metal in the middle of the desert. Alone. Busted up.

_**Error! Error! Error!**_

If this is where he would spend his last minutes- in a place he didn't want to be- then he would go down with a fight.

He shot everywhere with that fit of rage. He hit cactuses, dunes of sand and dried plants. Small critters scurried away to safety. Aside from that, nothing changed. He made no difference.

And he realized he didn't feel any better.

Finally, the world distorted for him. It faded, and the constant 'ERROR' warning was silenced. The empty bot deactivated, and fell to the ground.

x+x+x+x+x+x+x+x

He powered up.

His hearing sensors were the first to pick up. He heard quiet chattering that he couldn't quite decipher. Next, his eye flickered on. The night sky had long since changed the heat to cold air. 

He heard the talk die down as soon as he felt his systems fill with more power.

Ricochet sat up in a flash. In a split second, he assessed the situation. A man in a red jacket with red glasses pushed up on his head sat next a grayish, small squared robot by a campfire Though right now, they stared straight at him.

There was a rocket launcher next to the man, and the robot had a blaster on the ground. Unprepared fools!

Ricochet reached for his own weapon, but at the same time processed the image of said weapon lying on the ground.

He tapped his waist helplessly, and seethed quietly. He glared at the two.

"...Hey." the man spoke up. "I'm Brock."

The Bot felt a lack of power source all of a sudden. A cord unplugged itself from him and traveled across the dusty ground. His eye followed its trail up to the blocky robot.

The other robot then stood, grabbing the sleek blaster from the ground and plugging that into himself.

"That's 8-Bit," Brock said, noting the Bot's wariness. "He's only here, because he helped find you. He tracked your signal, and that's how we found you."

Ricochet didn't answer, but if he could roll his eye, he would have. Did Brock think that's what he wanted to know? The Bot look away from duo and fire, out into the dark and cold land. He could escape, quite easily.

"I'll be upfront with you, Ricochet." Brock spoke up again after a little while. "We were also sent by the Park to bring you back. But 8-Bit and I both agreed that Shelly and Colt's way was..." he trailed off, not quite sure how to word it.

"Stupid." 8-Bit offered in a voice that startled Ricochet a bit. That voice did not suit the robot. Something about that was amusing.

Brock laughed, placing a hand on the robot's head. "8-Bit, be nice."

He turned his attention back to Ricochet. "It was reckless of them to try and force you back, but it was also wrong of them."

Ricochet tapped his fingers in the sand, and he gave a sideway look to Brock.

Brock felt a small wave of relief. He was listening. He knew he hit the real problem here right on the mark. "Everyone at Starr Park works there because they want to."

8-Bit beeped at that remark sarcastically.

"Those are only rumors." Brock shushed him. "Anyway, you hardly had a say, right? Whether you were one of the original Bots, or you were built after the Uprise, you haven't gotten a chance to do what you want to do. Everyone expects you to listen just because they programmed you."

Ricochet processed his words and replayed them in his mind. He looked out to the distant, lonely landscape blankly. Then slowly, his head turned to the fire with a soft whir. "Yes." He answered.

Brock looked at him softly. There was nothing unkind or any underlying lies in his eyes, or smile. Not that Ricochet could sense that... but he surmised he didn't have to.

"You have been treated the same?" Ricochet asked him.

The man scratched his jaw. "Well... maybe not to the same extent," he chuckled lightly. "But let's say humans are programmed to make friends. I wasn't able to follow that programming for some reason, and I felt alone. So I turned to video games and blamed others for my loneliness. It was obviously their fault."

8-Bit blinked and looked at Brock as he talked. 

Ricochet silently agreed with that comparison, but Brock wasn't done.

He sighed, "That's what I believed anyway. Thinking back, I can recall countless times when someone tried to be my friend but I pushed them away. I was so hurt by before I didn't even want to try."

Brock slid the glasses he has rested on his head down on his face. "I played so much, that I damaged my eyes and have to wear a special kind of shades now."

Ricochet looked at him curiously.

Brock elaborated. "If I don't wear them, I get horrible headaches. Er... like it overloads my eyes. Artificial lighting, bright sunlight, and even this little guy's screen," he patted 8-Bit's head, who protested in beeps. "Can affect me. So... in the long run, I really just made things worse for myself."

The Bot looked down, cycling through the man's words. He didn't know exactly what to make of it.

Brock stretched. "I guess, the bottom line is... I was told to bring you back, but I ain't gonna force you, you know? I chose to work at Starr Park, so you should be given that choice too. 8-Bit agrees, that's why we found you and charged you up here."

Ricochet looked at 8-Bit, who cast his glance away.

"We haven't reported yet that we found you... so it's completely your choice." Brock said. "You can camp with us tonight and tell us your decision in the morning, or you can just go now if you absolutely refuse. It's up to you."

Ricochet played the analytics through his mind, but hardly found a strong conclusion. He shook his head, and stood.

8-Bit looked up at him, leaned down and grabbed the blaster that belonged to him. He lifted it up and out to Ricochet.

Ricochet walked over and grabbed it. There he stood, staring at it. Finally, he holstered it.

"Thank you." Ricochet said. "I'll stay."

Brock grinned, "That's good to hear, man."

Ricochet looked up, "I leave in the morning."

Brock blinked, confused. "Oh. Alright. I thought...?"

"I'm just kidding." Ricochet told him.

8-Bit smiled. It was an obvious joke.

"Oh, I get it," Brock smirked. "You're a troublemaker too, aren't you? Just like this one!" He grabbed 8-Bit and shook him.

"Heeey!" 8-Bit whined, before trailing into a series of beeps.

"Hey, don't take that attitude OR those words with me, shorty!"

Ricochet felt positive now as he watched the scene with amusement. He sat down with them on the logs, watching the fire and hearing Brock and 8-Bit playfully fight in the background.

He wasn't built yesterday... he knew this whole Park ordeal he was getting himself into was a long trail of trouble with no end in sight.

But, just maybe... if they were there, he could handle it. He hardly knew them but he felt... like he was finally in place. And it was his choice.


	2. Stand Off

If there was one thing Shelly hated, it was losing.

She looked up, and the robot menace was well on his way out of here. She exhaled in disbelief. They've failed. "Why didn't you get him!?" She yelled at Colt.

Colt gestured to the direction he went in. "Because he's gone." He snarked. He sighed right after, because he knew that wasn't anywhere near the way to pacify a 'Shelly Situation.' The damage was done.

"We had him cornered and you always have to get all smug, don't you!?" She kicked at the ground, but the soft sand only upset her even more. She growled and pumped her shotgun as she walked forward. "I'm going after him."

"Whoa, whoa, okay, hold on there Shelly," Colt said, moving to stand in front of her and holding his hands out.

"What?" She asked with a scowl.

"Think rationally-"

"You mean cowardly?" She interjected.

Colt didn't let that phase him this time, "We managed to rough him up, got some good hits on him. He's a robot- he's probably leaking oil now. If we follow him- he'll see us coming a mile away. If he even is still up and running."

Shelly frowned. "So we go back to town, and report we failed."

Colt smiled. "Well, we'll come back. Pick him up, bring him in."

"Right. Well, you go ahead and tell me how that works out for you." Shelly said, shoving her gun in her holster and turning toward town.

"Well, I reported it last time!" Colt reminded her, trying to keep up. "Why don't you call them and explain?"

"Because it's your idea to quit. It was your fault we failed last time, and it's your fault this time too." Shelly told him.

"At least I own up to my mistakes, Shelly. Like you're so perfect? Whose fault was it this time!?"

Shelly whirled around and shoved a finger at his chest. "Yours! Whenever we're on a task, you're so focused on looking good, you don't take things seriously, Colt!"

Colt smirked at her. "Well, I'm glad you think I look good."

It took her a second to process what he said, and her look darkened. "That's exactly what I mean, you narcissistic dick!" She stomped away, a sense of finality in the air.

Colt was taken aback. "You're being ridiculous! You're the one who froze up here!" He called after her. She didn't answer this time. Ugh. He scratched the back of his head. Had he gone too far...?

<*<*<*<*<*<*

Shelly walked through the streets of their area. She shoved her hands in her pockets as she thought back to the moment Ricochet shot at her. There were so many ways she could have reacted that would have led to capturing him.

She could have moved out of the way, and gotten a clear shot, or have reminded Colt to keep a sharper eye out... or even have brought him down and skipped trying to talk him down. The more she thought about the scenario, the worse she felt. She had considered heading to a restaurant to cheer herself up, but wiped that option completely off the table now as she headed home.

Shelly remained in that same miserable mindset the entire walk home. She hardly even noticed when she arrived.

Upon opening the door, her black cat looked up from where she chilled on the couch. "Meow."

Shelly glanced at Kit, kicked the door slam shut behind her and sighed. She was sweaty, felt gross and was tired. She headed to her room to grab a towel so she can shower, but as soon as she saw the bed, it was too wonderful of an invitation to ignore.

Shelly threw herself on it, sinking her face into her pillows. Yeah, this was nice. She kicked her boots off so they fell to the ground with a couple of thuds and relaxed into her mattress. Kit's meow came up again and the creak of the bedroom door announced her entrance. The black cat walked across the wooden floor and hopped on the bed. She walked along, stepped over Shelly's back and curled up near her arm.

"Hey, chiquita." Shelly mumbled, tilting her head to look at Kit and pet her. Kit purred, and moved her head into her hand.

Shelly sighed, calmer this time. She'd nap for a while before going to take that shower. She closed her eyes, and dozed off.

<*<*<*<*<*<*

"No, sir, we didn't try going after him. Chances were, we would have been gunned down if we tried." Colt spoke into his phone. He winced at the yelling voice on the other end. "Yes, I understand that it's important. It just... couldn't be helped..."

There was a pause, and then the garbled voice yelled even louder than before. Colt held the phone away from his ear. He listened with rampant boredom as he drummed his fingers on the bench he was sitting on outside. After several minutes of waiting for the ranting to stop, he found a place to speak up. "The good news is, we got clear shots on Ricochet, so he should be down for the count. We just had to regroup. So all we have to do is..."

Colt listened to the other voice on the phone talk yet again. "What? But we almost got him. Why should we stand aside and let-?"

He was interrupted by a last angry string of unintelligible shouts before being hung up on.

The redhead put his phone down and sighed, laying back to look up at the clear sky. They wouldn't be given the tokens for this quest. It wouldn't be so bad, but the last couple of major tasks they've been assigned has fallen flat for one reason or another.

He's always let failures here and there roll off his back, but lately... they seem to be failing more often, and the more they screw up, the more abrasive Shelly became. Between that and getting chewed out, Colt wasn't sure how much more he could stand. Maybe... it was time to call it quits.

Colt closed his eyes, feeling bummed out. The sun's rays beamed down, and the wind blew over him as he thought about a million things.

<*<*<*<*<*<*

The next day, a green cactus trotted down the street, a happy spring in his step. It might sound like an odd sight, and it is, but if you worked there long enough, you would get used to it. I did, eventually.

This cactus noted his friend Colt walking further down the street in the same direction. Since the cactus couldn't speak, he quickened his pace to be able to catch up to Colt. He reached up to pat him on his arm, but them reconsidered as he recalled the talks they've had about how prickly he was. His hand readjusted to tug on the man's sleeve.

Colt turned to him, and looked down. His frown melted away, and he cheered up some. "Hey, Spike. What's up?"

Spike's smile remained even and he waved. Then he looked around Colt. Someone seemed to be missing. He held up two fingers and shrugged in an exaggerated manner.

"You're asking where Shelly is?" Colt asked to make sure. Spike nodded. Colt ribbed his neck, "Well, to tell you the truth buddy, I don't know. She's been pis... mad since this robot got away." He explained. "Maybe she's at home, but I don't think she wants to hang out with me."

Spike thought about this for a few seconds, then held a hand to his ear, motioning to call her.

"Nah," Colt shook his head, "When she's mad, she stays mad."

Spike insisted, emphasizing a phone call, and then miming a drink.

"You think so?" Colt wondered. He did want to smooth things over with her, but would she go for it? Spike responded with an eager thumbs up.

Colt took out his phone and unlocked it, considering Spike's suggestion. "Well, I'll send her a text. But if she doesn't answer, that's on her." Colt decided.

Spike watched Colt as he tapped away on his phone, considering his words, then finally sent the text.

"So!" Colt said, shutting his phone off and sticking it back in his pocket. "What do you want to do in the meantime, buddy?"

Spike beamed up at him.

<*<*<*<*<*<*

Shelly had gotten out of the long shower she had taken to spoil herself a while ago. Currently, she stood in front of the mirror to dry her hair. Her music stream quieted down for a couple of seconds as she received the text.

She looked down, towel draped over her hair. From Colt. 'So he wants to talk now, does he?' She gave a look at it.

_Spike wants to hang out. We'll be at Barley's tonight if ur interested_

Shelly read the text, and considered it. She still wanted to be angry, but at the same time... well, what was the point? They could be in this rut for weeks if she let it continue, and he was offering a way out. It would just let them get back to gaining tokens, coins, and even gems quicker.

So, Shelly looked back up to her mirror, studying her face. She grinned. They could get back to it. She'd put in twice the effort from now on. They could do this.

<*<*<*<*<*<*

Hours later, around 9:30 pm, Shelly arrived at the bar. Her hair was pulled up in her trademark ponytail and she wore casual clothing. She looked around, recognizing a couple of faces, but looking for her two friends.

There they were- at the bar. Colt leaned forward, chatting to Barley. Spike stood on the seat next to him, listening in. The chatter of the place made a nice atmosphere. There was no show planned tonight, so the stage was closed and empty, but it didn't make it any less lively.

Shelly stepped over to them. She tapped on Colt's shoulder and sat down. Colt turned to Spike in confusion, saw the cactus' happy waving and pointing, then turned to Shelly.

"Oh!" He said, pleasantly surprised. "You came!"

"How could I pass up free drinks? Your treat, right?" Shelly smirked.

"First round only," Colt winked at her, "Please."

Shelly laughed. "Hmm, okay. But I'll remember this for any future make up drinks."

"Gotcha. Hey, Barley! A couple of drinks here to start us off. The usual."

"Right away, Sir." the bot smiled, getting to preparing it.

"You haven't ordered anything for yourself yet?" Shelly asked, noting a plate of spaghetti in front of Spike. No matter the restaurant here in the Park, you could always count spaghetti to be on the menu.

"Nah. I didn't want to be past buzzed already when you arrived. I wanted to talk to you." Colt explained.

"Oh.. about what?" She responded.

Colt tapped a finger on the wooden bar they sat at. "Sorry about Ricochet. And... the last couple of tasks we had. I want to see some winnings just as bad as you. Maybe... I do get caught up in myself. But you can't go around yelling at me anytime something goes wrong. I'll be honest. After I reported to Mr. P, and he yelled at me, I considered quitting this Trio."

Shelly listened with a frown, and looked distraught when Colt said the last part. Even Spike looked sad. She struggled to find the right words. "I'm... sorry. You know I don't mean to be.. like that. I'm.. bad at making and keeping friends, and I know that's no excuse. But I'll keep making an effort, so long as you do.

Colt nodded, smirking as he thought of something witty to say. "Apology accepted." he said instead.

"Here are your drinks, Sir and Madame." Barley returned, placing them in front.

"Thanks, Barley." "Thanks," Colt and Shelly said, respectively.

"My pleasure," he responded, going over to an old man who gestured him over.

Shelly and Colt clinked their glasses. Spike leaned in, grabbing at Colt's glass.

"No, you don't," Colt said with amusement, about to push Spike back, but thinking better of it. He held his glass away from Spike. "This is grown up stuff, you hear me?"

Spike shook his head and reached for the glass. He could almost feel it. However, he leaned in too far and felt some of his spikes dig into Colt.

"Ouch-!" Colt exclaimed, flinching hard. His drink flew through the air, but he hardly noticed. He cared more about the spikes in his arm and face.

Spike and Shelly on the other hand, followed the arch of the mug as it headed towards another bar-goer.

"'Oy!" Yelled the unlucky recipient. The mug fell to the ground with a shatter. Their table clattered as he pushed himself up angrily, and glared around. A woman with purple hair looked at him in alarm, and a cactus looked horrified as he glared at them. Signs of guilt and fear. Most likely them. He huffed angrily, feeling the cold drink seep through his jacket.

"Ain't that redhead the one who crashed the diner?" Crow asked him. "Didn't even pay for it."

Bull's intense gaze snapped to the man in between the two who stared at him. "Yeah!" He confirmed. "Always causing trouble. But now he will!" Bull stomped toward that trio, cracking his neck.

Crow stood as well to follow Bull, hands in his jacket pockets, silently prepped to fight.

The last one sitting watched them go, blowing one last bubble and letting it pop. She sighed inwardly. She was looking forward to a normal night out. She hopped off the seat, grabbed her bat from under the table and rested it on her shoulder as she followed suit. Of course someone had to ruin it for them.

Colt plucked the few cactus spines from his face and turned to his arm before noting the sudden quiet in the bar. He turned to Spike and then looked up to the looming shadow. A black haired man, a bird, and a girl stood in front of their seats, all glaring.

"Can I help you?" He asked, recognizing them all. "Bull, right? Kinda busy here." He gestured to his arm.

"Ya think you're so funny, don't ya?" Bull asked.

"Well, when I try to be, yeah." He said, eyeing Bull. "What about you? Trying out a new hairstyle to make people laugh? I think it's working out."

Bull grinned menacingly. "I'm glad you're amused. I'd bet you're the one who threw the drink. I see that your lady friend there has one of her own and you don't."

Colt glanced at Shelly who was grimacing. 'Oh,' He thought. 'I'm in the wrong here. Damnit.' He turned back to Bull and his allies and smiled sheepishly.

"Okay... um, I just now see what's going on here." He started. "Let's just all take a step back and calm down..."

Shelly, who was carefully observing the talk noticed a brief glint of light out of the corner of her eye. She turned toward a clear window in confusion. Was that a reflection off of a..?

The bar doors swung open, and her eyebrows drew together when she saw who it was.

Brock walked in with 8-Bit and that familiar target- walking like he belonged there.

Oh-ho-ho. She shook her head, her anger returning full blast. This time, she knew who to aim it at.

"Colt," she grabbed him as she stood. "Look."

"What-?" Colt paused and looked around Bull. Brock. Ricochet. He frowned. "Oh. I forgot to tell you," he said. "P told me that he would give our task to someone else."

"So Brock just waltzed in, took our bounty and brought our friend here for a drink, huh?" Shelly said.

Then, Brock and the Bots seemed to notice the glares coming from Shelly and Colt. Brock held an arm in front of Ricochet protectively, muttering something to him. The robot seemed to half listen as he glared back at Colt and Shelly..

"Don't look away from me, pretty boy." Bull growled. "You've got a lot to answer for."

"Can it, nose ring." Shelly griped, glancing between Brock and Ricochet. "There's more important things than you."

"That's it," Bibi spoke up. "Who the hell do you think you are? Ruining our night, mocking us, and now belittling us? Ya think the sun revolves around you?"

Colt side-eyed Bibi. "Are you even supposed to be here? What's it say on your real ID, kid? If you're even old enough for one."

"That ain't nothing for you to worry about." Crow pulled out a triad of knives. "You should be prayin' for a miracle."

"Hey, Brock." Shelly called out. "Enjoying that easy pay you weaseled into?"

Brock frowned. He looked annoyed, but refused to reply. Maybe they should just go somewhere else...

"Are you mad because you realized being trigger happy doesn't fix everything?" 8-Bit defended. Brock looked down to him in disapproval. 8-Bit felt his stare and didn't look up at him.

Shelly glowered, taking out her gun. "I'll show you trigger-happy, buddy."

Colt noted Shelly and followed her example. Bull's gang were all prepped, the Bots near Brock were armed. This was going to happen.

Spike had his two hands clasped to his face, his mouth downturned in fright. He hadn't meant for it to turn out this way! He couldn't even say anything to try and de-escalate the situation, for he tragically had no voice...!

In the next few seconds, all hell broke loose.


End file.
